


Call to the Kindred

by Mertiya



Series: Seal of the Guildpact [2]
Category: Magic: The Gathering
Genre: Family, M/M, Meet the Family, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Quite Judaism, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 11:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7800370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/Mertiya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although Ral has been visiting home occasionally over the past few years, Natalka and Alexei Zarek are still worried about their oldest son.  With the Tanish festival of belonging just on the horizon, they're wondering if Ral is going to come home for the holidays--and if he'll come alone, as he always has before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call to the Kindred

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5997763) by [Rastaban](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rastaban/pseuds/Rastaban). 



> Many, many thanks to the amazing Rastaban, for helping me plot this fic and for providing me with headcanons about Ral's backstory and parents. I couldn't have done this without her! Many thanks to Juri, as well, for always being a patient, listening ear with lots of useful suggestions.

As the Blind Eternities melted away, Jace breathed a sigh of relief as the sudden smell of hot _piroshkis_ filled the air. Maybe it was selfish, but after his sojourn on Zendikar, he didn’t feel like taking off immediately to another plane, especially one where he would likely find himself seeking out Liliana Vess. No, he deserved a short break. And, moreover, someone else deserved a little of his time.

            Jace’s landings on Ravnica tended to be precise due to his many years of practice, and, indeed, he was only a street or two away from Nivix, less than a five minute walk. He was almost surprised at how eager he was to see his—to see Ral.

            To be safe, he threw up a quick illusion of a Nivix guildmage over himself. Although at this point the Firemind knew about him and Ral, several long negotiations had resulted in a level of secrecy Jace felt was unlikely to be breached. Niv-Mizzet liked knowing things that no one else did, and he was probably embarrassed to be indebted to Ral. Jace had done this walk so many times that it felt as comfortable as slipping on his cloak. He nodded to Mizzix, who was leaning tiredly against one of the communal coffee-makers, an ancient, wheezing device that exploded roughly once every two days, took the first right after the main common room, and headed up the stairs to the fourth floor.

            The door to Ral’s lab was ajar, and Jace leaned against the frame as he tried to catch his breath. The last few weeks had contained entirely too much exercise, and yet he was still getting winded climbing the stairs in Nivix. Of course. Still, it was a good excuse to look into the lab before going in.

            Ral was working at his desk, connecting what looked like a fine net of manalines. Half of his hair was plastered to his head, while the other half was sticking straight up, which meant he’d probably fallen asleep at the desk again. Despite the fact that he was almost certainly exhausted—judging from the nine empty coffee cups at his elbow—he was moving swiftly and precisely as his fingers made connections between the wires. His shirt was rolled up, and Jace found himself appreciatively tracing the lines of Ral’s forearm muscles with his eyes. Finally, as Ral slotted the last wire into place, Jace cleared his throat softly.

            “Not now,” Ral said irritably. “And if you’re another lost goblin, go talk to Crix, fifth floor, lab seven and for fuck’s sake tell her to stop playing with that instamap machine, it’s not working.”

            “It’s me,” Jace said, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him.

            Ral’s shoulders twitched minutely and hunched up before he turned around. “Morning, Jace,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but Jace heard the sudden soft stammer in his voice, and he crossed the room and bent down to kiss Ral.

            He’d meant to go in for a short peck, but Ral’s arms reached up and caught eagerly at his shoulders, and the next minute Jace was in his lover’s lap, with Ral’s hands roaming over his shoulders and back, tongue tracing over everything inside his mouth, and when Ral pulled back it was only to kiss along the line of Jace’s jaw, down his throat and toward his collarbone. “R-Ral—” he gasped.

            “Jackass,” Ral growled breathily. “You’ve been gone for two weeks!” Sparks skittered across his arm and jumped to Jace’s, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck standing on end.

            “I left a note!” he protested.

            Ral stopped kissing him but didn’t let go, leaning his face into Jace’s chest. “Ah, yes, and it’s so easy to follow someone through the Blind Eternities,” he said sharply. “If you’d been hurt and needed me, Jace—what then?”

            About to protest that he was fine, Jace paused, thinking of running away from an eldrazi while having absolutely no way of combating it. “Um,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

            An expression of surprise crossed Ral’s face, and he looked away quickly. “Yeah, well, you should be,” he muttered.

            Jace decided not to mention that he was going to have to leave again in a few days. That fiasco could be dealt with at a later date. Maybe he could take Ral with him briefly to ensure that he could follow if he was concerned. Truth be told, Jace was feeling quite badly about not leaving more than a note, now that he could feel the not-quite-hidden trembling in Ral’s back and arms. He just wasn’t used to having someone who cared like this, he supposed.

            “Well, anyway, I’m fine,” he said, awkwardly patting the top of Ral’s head. Another soft growl. Ral bit his collarbone, buried his nose painfully in his chest.

            They stayed like that for several minutes, Jace in Ral’s lap, curled over him, Ral’s arms holding him in place. It was an odd but not unpleasant position. After about five minutes, Ral sighed, fidgeted, and sat up, shoving Jace back onto his feet.

            “Uh, Jace,” he said, eyes staring down at his gauntlet. “Um, so, there’s this thing I wanted to ask you. Should—probably—ask you.”

            Jace blinked at him, fought down some nerves, and repressed the urge to take a quick peek into Ral’s mind. “What?” he said uneasily.

            The legs of Ral’s chair beat a staccato, irregular rhythm against the floor as he started to rock back and forth. “So you may not know this—I don’t know how much you know about obscure—religions—um—there’s a, uh, there’s a holiday coming up. A Ravnican—well, a Tanish holiday.”

            Despite his confusion, Jace quickly started running through in his head what he knew about the Tanish. He dimly tried to remember if they were one of the precursors that were later subsumed into Selesnya. He had some vague notion they worshiped a rather dull weather goddess. Tanit. Ral seemed to be waiting for something, so Jace gave a half-nod. “I know a little about the Tanish,” he said carefully, voice rising at the end of his statement.

            “I was—well. My family is Tanish.”

            “You have a _family_?” Jace blurted before realizing just how awful that sounded.

            It got Ral to look up from fiddling with the dials on his gauntlet, if only to flash an angry glare Jace’s way. “Did you think every planeswalker materialized fully-formed from the aether, Jace? We’re not all you. We didn’t all erase everything about our own pasts in a flash of overdramatic misery.”

            “That’s not—” Jace cut off the protestation. Ral did have something of a point.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Ral continued forcefully. “The Tanish holiday of belonging is coming up, and—er—I sometimes briefly look in, because Ma—because my mother likes it. I was wondering if you’d come with me, this time. I think Ma and Pa would like to meet you.”

            “What, you mean because I’m the Guild—” Jace broke off. Ral was staring very determinedly at something over his left shoulder, and unless the caloric converter had suddenly metamorphosed into a Dinrova horror, he was presumably just trying very hard to avoid eye contact. “—oh. You mean because—oh.”

            “It’s just to make them happy,” Ral said fiercely. “And because they keep bothering me about it. You wouldn’t have to stay long.”

            Jace swallowed. There was a suspicious prickling at the backs of his eyes. “Sure,” he said.

            “And I mean it’s fine if you don’t want to—” Ral blinked. “Wait, what?”

            “I said ‘sure’. And, um, thanks.”

            “What are you thanking me for?” Ral asked irritably. “It’s going to be horrible. I should be thanking you for being willing to do it.”

            “Oh, well, I just…” Jace faltered, not wanting to push too hard. Fortunately, he was saved from having to do so when Ral tipped a little too hard and the chair went over backwards with a crash. There was an explosion of lightning and obscenities, and Jace had to grin as he headed over to help Ral back to his feet.

~

            “You look—boring.”

            “I thought that was the point.” Jace shuffled awkwardly in the loose trousers and tunic and ran a hand through his hair. He shivered in the chilly late afternoon breeze. “Did you want me to meet your family in full Guildpact regalia? I’d rather not be fending off assassins at the dinner table.”

            “It’s fine.” Ral waved a distracted hand. “I’m just not used to seeing you without your security blanket.”

            “It’s not—”

            “ ‘That cloak has been through more with me than most people.’ Ring any bells, Jace?”

            Jace glared. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

            “What a tragedy,” Ral growled, but he paused at the door, putting a hand to the back of his neck, and then offered Jace an arm.

            “How are we getting—” Jace paused. “Where are we actually going?” he asked. “I don’t think you really told me where you live.” He frowned, thinking back. “You mentioned the Eighth District at one point?”

            Ral nodded shortly. “Booked a carriage,” he said. “Come on.”

            Sometimes, Ral got talkative when he was nervous. He would pace from end to end of the lab, muttering to himself, when he had a particularly important meeting with the Firemind, sometimes forgetting Jace was there entirely. Sometimes, he got nervous of presentations in front of the other guildmembers, and that usually led to long rants. But sometimes, instead, he got very terse and quiet. He was terse and quiet now.

            The carriage ride was rather long, and Jace took the opportunity to doze off. He woke with a start after bright-dark dreams of Zendikar to find his head resting on Ral’s shoulder and Ral’s arm determinedly around his back, holding him steady. Blinking and yawning, Jace stared sleepily out of the windows of the carriage. Clouds bearing heavy rain had blown up while he had slept, and the world was silent and grey. His heart leapt in a strange moment of recognition as they came within sight of the well-worn cobblestones he used to—Jace shook his head. _Ral_ used to. The sudden swell of familiarity inside his chest wasn’t his own, and he regretfully shook it off.

            “Almost there,” Ral said suddenly, staring out the window. Jace didn’t say anything, and squashed the temptation to open a mental connection. Instead, he reached out, took Ral’s hand, and squeezed gently.

            The carriage took them down a thin, winding alleyway that debouched out into a small, round courtyard, with a gurgling fountain in the center. Thin, iron fences seemed to barely be holding in the greenery that tried to fight its way out. “That way,” Ral said gruffly, shoving Jace toward a wooden door on the opposite side of the courtyard. He picked his way across, trying to avoid the deep pools of water collecting in broken cobblestones. He didn’t want to get his new boots soaked.

            As they stopped in front of the door, Jace could feel Ral’s hand trembling slightly, but he raised his free hand and knocked loudly. Shifting his feet awkwardly, he waited. There was a moment of silence, and then a number of loud noises, first some shouting and then a clatter or two.

            The woman who answered the door was of medium height, with a hooked nose and dark hair threaded with grey. Jace blinked. It was strange to see Ral’s features mixed up and rearranged like that. “Ral!” She put out both hands to take Ral’s, and leaned up on her toes to kiss him on each cheek. “You’re early!”

            “Hi, Ma. Brought you some wine.” Ral dug in the pocket of the voluminous overcoat he’d flung over his usual outfit and brought out a fluted bottle that Jace knew had come from one of the more upscale markets of the Tenth District. “Just picked it up on the way over.”

            Ral’s mother smiled in a way that Jace thought meant she might suspect that Ral was downplaying the wine, and then turned to Jace. She didn’t say anything, she just smiled and looked inquiringly at Ral, who sighed loudly. “This is my, um. This is J—Berrim. We’re. You wanted—” he floundered.

            Jace took pity on him. “We’ve been, um, together for a few months now,” he chimed in. “It’s nice to meet you…”

            “Call me Natalka,” Ral’s mother put out a firm hand and shook Jace’s, then pressed a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Ral, I’m so glad—”

            “Is Jaromir home?” Ral interrupted. “What about Layla and the cousins?”

            Natalka rolled her eyes, and Jace couldn’t help but pick up the edge of the warm feeling that rolled through her. “Layla and Jaromir are in the kitchen making dinner. Your father and most of the cousins are having drinks in the living room.”

            Ral nodded, then dragged Jace further into the house, keeping one hand clamped tightly around his wrist. “We’re going to the living room,” he said, in response to Jace’s questioning look.

            The house that Ral took him through was small and cozy and full of interesting little twisted plants. Ral paused in front of one that was wilting slightly, pressed a finger into the soil, and then, a little begrudgingly, snapped his fingers. A small, misty raincloud formed and began to lightly trickle water above the pot holding the plant.

            Noise and emotions crashed suddenly into Jace as Ral flung open a door at the end of the hallway and gestured for him to enter, but the mind mage had to take a moment to blink and steady himself before he felt ready to enter. Ral gave him an impatient look and then, when he didn’t move, took his elbow and steered him into the room.

            “Evening all.”

            The conversation in the other room paused for a chorus of greetings to be shouted in Ral’s and Jace’s general direction. Ral introduced Jace at least three times, dragging him around the room by his elbow, and Jace spent most of the time nodding, smiling, and shoring up his mental shields. Either Zendikar had left him more tired than he thought or the Zareks as a clan had significantly louder thoughts than the average Ravnican, because this was not a problem he had on the streets at large.

            Finally, they stopped in front of a tired-looking man with graying hair. “Evening, Pa,” Ral said. “This is Berrim, my, uh, boyfriend.”

            “Pleased to meet you, Berrim,” Ral’s father smiled. “I’m Alexei.” He looked less like Ral than Natalka did, but something about his large hands was oddly familiar. Both Ral and his father had long-fingered, slightly crooked hands, and Jace actually had to try not to stare. He didn’t really know how to do this. When was the last time he had interacted with a family—any family? He didn’t know. He suddenly didn’t know if he ever had, and that made him feel small and sad and yet touched that Ral was sharing this with him. “Ral, Jaromir said to ask you to help in the kitchen when you arrived,” Alexei Zarek informed his son. “Berrim, why don’t you sit here by me? I think there’s room if we can get Danica to squeeze a little.”

            _You okay with that?_ Ral flashed into Jace’s head. _I can take you to the kitchen if you want._

 _Yeah, I—I think it’ll be fine._ Jace pushed the mental equivalent of a smile into Ral’s mind. _I’d like to get to know your family._

There was a long pause, during which Jace was pretty sure Ral was going through a number of possible emotions and probably discarding a lot of them or shoving them aside. Finally, he gave a minuscule shrug. _Suit yourself_. _I’ll catch up with you at dinner, then._

            _I love you_. Ral stared at him for a long moment, and Jace caught himself after the thought had already gone. It had just been—automatic, just a simple verbalization of a feeling he already had quite a lot, but it had swelled up before he’d cut the connection and now—now—

            _Yeah. Uh, you, too._ Ral suddenly took Jace’s shoulder, turned him around, and pressed a quick kiss into his cheek. “Have fun,” he said, heading for the kitchen as a round of cheering laughter swept across the room. Jace flushed as he sank into the spot opened up for him by an obliging Danica, trying to suppress the advent of another sudden, choked feeling in his throat.

~

            At first, partly out of habits formed during long hours of mediation where he was mainly supposed to assess rather than talk, Jace didn’t say much. But Alexei and the rest of the family were friendly and curious in a casual sort of way, and he found himself being drawn into the discussion reasonably quickly. Thankfully, he was used to lying about his origin and his occupation, and he didn’t have any trouble convincing anyone that he was a guildless scribe from the Tenth. As to the inevitable question about how he and Ral met, Jace was purposely rather vague, implying he’d rather wait for Ral to be there before he told the story. Otherwise, he thought ruefully, they would inevitably fail to get their stories straight.

            Even if he hadn’t had to hide who he was, he probably would have responded the same way. ‘Your son tried to kill me, but it was mostly just a misunderstanding’ might not go down so well, although maybe they would all just shake their heads and laugh. After all, these were people who had grown up with Ral.

            Several more cousins trickled in, followed by Natalka, who had obviously been waiting at the door to greet people, until the room was practically full to bursting with humanity. The last time Jace had been around this many people in such close proximity, he thought he’d actually been in the Rough Crowd, though that was about where the similarity ended.

            “Ral didn’t tell us you were coming,” Natalka said brightly to him. “Did he surprise you with this?”

            “Oh, er,” Jace temporized. “I was actually out of the district on business and just got back.”

            “What kind of business?”

            “Nothing very interesting,” he temporized. “I, er, I don’t really want to talk about it, actually. Just sort of unpleasant.” Appropriate sympathetic noises. Somehow Jace found himself continuing when he hadn’t intended to at all. “Actually, I’ll probably be having to go on another business trip shortly, and I’m worried about it.” More sympathetic noises. Natalka actually reached out and patted his arm.

            “What’s the trouble?” she asked.

            “It’s—there’s someone I used to be involved with—” _Wait, why am I telling Ral’s family about Liliana?_ This was definitely not what he’d meant to talk about. “—she came looking for me a few weeks ago, and I told her to go away, because I really did not want to—to deal with trying to help her—and I suppose I feel bad about that, but…” He trailed off. “Anyway, now I have to go visit the—the part of the city where she lives, and I know I’m going to run into her—I probably should look in on her anyway, she might get angry if I don’t.” _Not to mention I probably have to ask her for help_ , he reminded himself, his stomach flipflopping.

            One of Ral’s cousins—Nicola?—gave a snort. “Sounds like bad news.”

            “She and I just weren’t a good fit,” Jace tried, which was a little too mild. “But I mean, I shouldn’t have just sent her off without helping. As a friend. Definitely as a friend. Krokt. ” There was absolutely no way he wanted any of Ral’s family to think he would ever consider cheating on Ral, _especially_ with Liliana, of all people.

            No one seemed to think he was a terrible person, though; he was getting a lot of headshakes, but a cursory glance over the general thoughts of the room suggested there was more of a sense of _what an idiot_ than _how dare he_. Jace blinked. That wasn’t quite the reaction he’d been expecting.

            “Just stay away from her,” put in Danica. “Easy.”

            “I’m not sure it will be that simple,” Jace responded doubtfully. It had never really occurred to him to get an outsider’s perspective on Liliana. “I mean, she might be in trouble.”

            “Is she always in trouble?” put in—Jace had to check people’s heads—Jan.

            “Huh?” Jace said intelligently, caught off-guard by the question. “I—I guess she is in trouble a lot.”

            Jan nodded knowingly. “Is nothing ever her fault?”

            Jace blinked at him. “Well—”

            “Did she say she was so sorry for how things turned out, she really cares about you and wishes they could have gone differently?”

            Jace had a sudden, wildly uncomfortable and terrified moment where he honestly thought he was talking to another telepath. “Do you—know her?” he asked hoarsely, desperately trying to maintain a straight face.

            “And did she, in fact, totally fuck you over and then try to act as if you were both equally in the wrong?” Jace just blinked. Jan sat back with a pleased grin on his face. “Yeah, sounds like my sister’s ex-girlfriend.”

            “But…people aren’t—they’re not _clones_ ,” Jace objected, still bemused by the entire discussion and by the suddenly dawning thought that other people in the world might have actually had to deal with people like Liliana. And even succeeded. Of course, intellectually he’d known that. But he’d never really encountered it demonstrated in quite such a drastic fashion before.

            “Was she your first girlfriend?” Danica asked. She sounded, Jace thought, vaguely pitying. Which was a little bit galling, since she looked about seventeen, which made her eight or so years younger than Jace himself. Jace felt himself turning slowly red.

            “I think you’d be best off just avoiding her,” Alexei said mildly. “Or, if you can’t do that, at least make sure she knows you’re no longer available. It’s not a perfect solution, but very few things are.”

            “U-um, I’ll keep that in mind,” Jace managed. “Thanks.”

            “You could probably also ask Ral for help,” Nicola said with a frown. “As long as you don’t mind her being electrocuted.”

            Jace actually snorted at the mental image of Liliana attempting to deal with Ral. “I could, couldn’t I?” he responded thoughtfully. “I may definitely consider that.”

            Fortunately, before Jace could dig himself an even deeper hole, the conversation shifted, taking the focus away from him, and he breathed a sigh of relief as they dove into a rather emotionally charged discussion of recent Selesnyan policies and the effects of the Guildpact’s re-establishment. This did mean Jace found himself in the rather peculiar position of listening to people debate over some of his more recent decisions, but given some of the discussions that went on in the Azorius Senate, he felt that he was getting off rather lightly, especially when the worst thing that was said was Nicola calling him “an overly naïve fuck-up” before receiving a mild rebuke from Natalka over her choice of language.

            A few minutes later, Ral re-entered the living room, smelling of food and looking vaguely harassed. “Jaromir said to tell you dinner’s ready,” he drawled. “Do we really _have_ to eat in the middle of a fucking forest? Couldn’t we just eat in the dining room like normal people?”

            Jace’s eyebrows rose, Alexei said in a disapproving tone of voice, “ _Ral_ ,” and Natalka sighed. Clearly, this was the sort of thing that happened in the Zarek household. Ral rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said.

            “Sorry,” he murmured apologetically to Jace as the family headed to wherever food was. “Tanish shit.”

            Hiding a smile, Jace squeezed his elbow sympathetically, not bothering to say that he was entirely certain he’d had much less pleasant dinners under much less pleasant circumstances than whatever mild inconvenience Ral was griping about.

            It actually turned out to be quite nice. Jace looked around with interest at the structure that had apparently been grown onto the back of the little house. It was almost a porch-like extension, and Jace honestly was not sure whether it had been done by magic or just by careful cultivation. There was a framework made of the woven together trunks of some young, supple trees, and flowering vines twined round them in several places, so that the roof consisted of close-packed leaves with the occasional bright flower interspersed. Magic or not, it must have required a great deal of skill.

            Ral flung himself into one of the chairs set around the long, low table, dragging Jace into the chair beside him, and promptly started rocking backwards, staring around at the greenery and shaking his head. Hiding his amusement, Jace squeezed his hand briefly and then found himself in a discussion with Ral’s sister-in-law Layla, who sat down next to him and told him that Nicola and Ral’s brother Jaromir would serve the food.

            Dinner was a somewhat ceremonial affair, which meant that Jace kept automatically glancing at Ral for cues, and Ral kept giving him blank shrugs. Most of the family was good about smoothing over their gaffes, and Ral—astonishingly—confined his dislike of ceremony to a few disgruntled noises and, once, when asked to pass around a central candle, grinned and called up a miniature breeze that almost—but not quite—extinguished the flame. “Ral,” sighed his mother.

            “What?” There was a moment when something bright and bitter sparked across the dinner table, and the hairs on Jace’s arm stood up as an invisible corona leapt into existence around Ral’s gauntlet. “You know I’m good at keeping things lit,” Ral said sharply, and his father and mother exchanged looks. For a moment, Jace hesitated, and then, hoping against hope this wasn’t going to backfire, he sent a quick mental pat to Ral, little more than a reminder that he was here. What he got back was a flash of irritation, but the candle flame steadied, and the hairs on Jace’s arm began to go down again.

            The only other bad moment was during the prayer to Tanit, halfway through the meal. Everyone went quiet as Natalka rose and began to speak in an old, strange language that Jace didn’t know. Beside him, Ral tensed slightly, one hand dropping to a dial on his gauntlet and playing with a few of the settings Jace knew he adjusted when he was unsettled. Still, he seemed fine, and Jace felt his attention drawn back to Natalka, something about the round phrases seeming to draw him in.

            What did they mean? He could have used a language spell—Jace wasn’t exactly unpracticed in the art—but some small contrary thought deep inside protested. He wouldn’t _really_ understand it that way, not at a fundamental level. Wouldn’t get a glimpse inside this thing that was and was not part of Ral. Almost before he’d had a chance to make a conscious decision, Jace felt his mind opening. Another small, quiet voice inside his head objected that every time he did this, something seemed to go wrong, but it was just too late to do anything about it before he was drawn into the warmth and the light and the chant.

            _There is a web, an intricate pattern of lines running from one person to the next—and yet, they are not separate, they are not isolated points of light in the dark; they are nodes. Nodes in a larger tapestry that encompasses not just these little lights, but the roots beneath them and the leaves above them, and above even that, the water that nourishes the leaves and the roots, that flows through in a neverending cycle. This is not a pattern of barriers; this is a pattern of coexistence, a harmony, a blend of single threads into one unique whole, across not just this table, but down through the roots of these trees into the dark soil, from root to root to root, from table to table, across the city and to the Great Tree. They are not her leaves and yet they are, and she is the Tree and the Sky Mother above, caring for all of them. It is a pattern with no beginning and no ending, a calm song that calls to all and promises a respite from care as a part, a cog, a leaf, a node. Just grow and entwine and build, all together. All together…_

_Something flickers in the web, a jagged edge of dark-bright light, a disturbance in the pattern. This is not of Tanit, this is not of Vitu Ghazi, this is something else, older and darker and more disruptive. This is Ba’al, the forces of chaos, ripping and plucking at the web of the pattern, the harmony disrupted, a jangling wave of discord traveling out from a single, central spark—_

“Mother of _storms_ , Jace, what the hell?” Jace gasped, snapping back into himself with a sudden, jangling noise ringing in his ears. The palm of his hand was stinging and painful. All around him, he saw Zareks blinking and sighing as if coming out of a daze. Natalka’s voice died away, and she rubbed her hands across the back of her eyes. “What did you just _do_?” Ral hissed under his breath. “Everyone went— _weird_.”

            “I just wanted to know what the prayer meant!”

            “It means we’re halfway through dinner!”

            “No, I—” Jace sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—to touch whatever that was.”

            “I can’t believe I need to say this, J—Berrim, but _do not do mind things while we are near Selesnya_!”

            That—had not occurred to Jace. It was now occurring to him, in a way that made his ears heat up with embarrassment and some concern. “Erm,” he murmured, as Natalka sat down and normal conversation resumed. “Right. I’ll remember that in future.”

            Ral gave him a slightly exasperated look. “And let me see your hand, I might have burned it a little when I was trying to get you to snap out of it.”

            So that was why his hand hurt. Mutely, he proffered it to Ral, who inspected the palm. “Okay, it’ll be fine for now, but I’m going to put some ointment on it later.”

            The rest of dinner passed relatively uneventfully, although Jace started to notice that down at the bottom end of the table there was a lot of giggling and whispering. He hadn’t noticed many children when he was sitting in the living room with Alexei and the other cousins, but now that he looked there were at least five of them, if not more. Maybe they had been in the kitchen with Jaromir and Layla.

               By the time they had finished the main courses and were sipping strong coffee and nibbling on sweet pastries, the children at the bottom of the table were running back and forth along the table. There seemed to be something of a game made out of the sweets—Jaromir and Layla had put out various flavors of pastries and candies at different points along the table, and the children were giggling and bartering with different adults for different sweets.

            “Um, excuse me?” A small hand tugged at Jace’s sleeve, and he looked down to see a small child with chocolate all around its mouth. “Are you the Guildpact?” Jace choked on the sweet wine he had been sipping. “’Cos Sofia said Cousin Ral is married to the Guildpact.”

            “I didn’t say they were married!” a small girl protested. “I’ll give you two sugar-cubes for those pecan cookies, Mr. Berrim. I just said that Nicola said that Cousin Ral lives in the Tenth and you know that’s where the Guildpact lives so Seb said that maybe they went on dates and stuff.”

            Gasping for air, Jace managed to negotiate the trade of the sugar cubes for the cookies. “If you live in the Tenth, do you see the Guildpact a lot?” another small cousin asked.

            “Yeah, Berrim,” Ral’s voice echoed amusedly at his ear. “Do you see the Guildpact a lot?’

            “Uh,” said Jace. “Well, um, occasionally.”

            _Yeah, judging from your hair you don’t look in the mirror very often,_ Ral sniped in his head.

            _What’s wrong with my hair?_ Jace demanded indignantly.

            _Try taking a look in a mirror sometime._

“Cousin Ral, did you bring anything back from the Tenth?” Sofia asked.

            “I might’ve forgotten,” Ral answered insouciantly, and the little girl put her hands on her hips and stomped her foot. “Raaaaal.”

            “What’ll you give me?”

            “I’ve got these pecan cookies and some mini pies,” Sofia said hopefully.

            The first small child shook its head. “Cousin Ral doesn’t play the game properly,” it said, nose in the air. “Seb told me.”

            “Oh, I don’t play the game _properly_?” Ral asked. “Listen, kid, do you know who made the rules to this game in the first place?”

            “No one made the rules, they’re the _rules_.”

            “That’s a boring answer.”

            “Oh, come on, Sofia, he won’t play.”

            “No,” Sofia said stubbornly, and the first child shrugged and headed further up the table. Ral produced a cloth bag that Jace recognized as having come from one of their favorite _piroshki_ vendors and began to toss it up and down, grinning lazily at Sofia, who narrowed her eyes at him. “If you never play by the rules, how do you _work_?” she asked.

            “I play by rules,” Ral answered. “Sometimes. When I can’t help it. But I like to know where they come from, so I know which ones I can ignore.”

            “Well, what rules will you play by now so I can get those candies?” Sofia asked, displaying both what Jace felt was an admirable amount of focus and a level of brutal honesty he wished he heard more often in his official chambers.

            “Tell me something I don’t know,” Ral answered promptly.

            Sofia blinked at him. “But you’re a grown-up,” she objected.

            “No, I know that.” Ral winked at her. “Good try, though.”

            “But how can I know anything you don’t?”

            “I don’t play impossible games,” Ral responded with a shrug. “Just tell me something I don’t know.”

            “You’re mean.”

            Ral’s eyes flicked to Jace, and Jace was surprised at how gently the corner of his mouth turned up. “No, no, I’ve been told that as well.”

            Sofia frowned critically from him to Ral and back. “Auntie Nat told all of us before dinner to be nice to your boyfriend even if he was weird. You’re not weird, though, you’re actually nice,” she added, smiling at Jace.

            “Ma doesn’t trust me,” Ral said with an exaggerated sigh. “Have some candy, kid.”                                   

            “Wait, that really counted?” Sofia stared down at the sack of _piroshkis_ that Ral had deposited in her hand.

            “You fulfilled the terms of the agreement.” Ral cocked an eyebrow at her. “Always make sure you’re making the deal the other person thinks you are, not the deal _you_ think you are.”

            “Huh,” said Sofia. “Thanks. You’re not as bad as Seb says you are.”

            “Fuck Seb,” Ral said, and Sofia gave a little gasp and then a giggle before running off down the table shouting, “Guess what I got? What’ll you give me for _these_?”

            A somewhat familiar choked feeling was rising in Jace’s throat, and he had to press the heel of his hand into his eyes.

            “Oh, what’s wrong this time?” Ral asked, but he didn’t sound annoyed, and he ruffled Jace’s hair a little awkwardly.

            Jace sniffed. “Your family is pretty nice,” he said.

            “I guess they’re okay,” Ral said doubtfully. “I’m only too happy to share, though.”

            “Thanks,” Jace mumbled.

            Someone tugged on his sleeve again. Yet another child, this one wearing a crown of flowers in her hair. “Sofia said you live in the Tenth, do you know Niv Mizzet?”

            “I’ve seen him,” Jace replied carefully. “Ral works in Nivix though, you should be asking him, not me.”

            “Horrible old bat,” Ral put in.

            “Does he really eat goblins for breakfast?”

            “Yup,” Ral lied cheerfully. “Every day. And he uses a golden scepter as a toothpick.”

            “Do you know any angels? What are they like?” They’d attracted two more of the non-Sofia child cousins.

            _Incredibly stubborn_ , was Jace’s first, impulsive response, which he quickly squashed. “They’re, well, um, they’re very beautiful,” he managed instead.

            “Did you ever date an angel?” piped up one of them.

            “How many wings do they have?” asked the other. “Cousin Ivanka said they have six, but Seb says nothing has more than two wings.”

            “No, I never dated an angel,” Jace responded, struggling to keep up. “Angels usually have—” he paused, trying to pull up a mental picture of one of the Boros angels and finding himself unaccountably able to decide whether she ought to have two or four wings. “Three wings?” he hazarded.

            Ral sighed loudly. “I think you need to start sleeping at night, if that’s your answer.”

            “Says the person who was on his thirteenth cup of coffee the last time I checked in on him,” muttered Jace irritably, and then looked up to find both a circling of small, giggling cousins, and Ral’s mother looking at them with a surprised, fond expression.

            “Ma, what are you looking at?” Ral complained.

            “Oh, it’s just—” Natalka sipped at her coffee. “I never would have thought you would find someone who liked children, Ral.”

            “ _What_.”

            Thinking of Iskra and the rest of the leonin cubs, Jace had to suppress a smile. “Actually, Natalka, Ral isn’t that bad with children himself,” he said. Ral turned towards him, sputtering, just as Natalka said brightly, “You know, Ral, I’m not getting any younger. Have you and Berrim considered children?”

            “ _Ma_!” Ral bawled in protest. “ _No_! I am not even—I don’t even—we’re both—if you _must_ sate your desire for grandchildren, bother Jaro and Layla!”

            “They’re waiting until they open the restaurant, Ral, really, I told you this the last time you visited.”

            “Well, don’t look at _us_ ,” Ral complained. “I don’t like children, and Berrim doesn’t have the right anatomy for it anyway.”

            _I like how you assume that I’d be the one carrying the child,_ Jace put in amusedly. Ral shot him a glare.

            “After all, Ral, dear, you’re a guildmage, I’m sure the Combine would be only too happy to—”

            “Oh my god, Mother, I am not a Simic guildmage and _we are not having this conversation._ ”

            “All right, dear, we can discuss it another time.” Ral sputtered indignantly as his mother rose from the table, beginning to collect the dirty dishes and then turned to Jace. “Berrim, would you mind helping me in the kitchen for a minute?”

            “Not at all.” Jace covered his surprise as well as he could, and began to collect the nearby used dishes, trying to ignore the fact that Ral was now glancing back and forth between Natalka and him with a bemused and faintly concerned expression on his face.

            “I wanted to thank you,” Natalka said as the kitchen door shut behind them. “For visiting us with Ral.”

            “You’re welcome,” Jace replied as he helped her carry the plates over to the sink. “I’m happy to be here.”

            “To be honest, you’re not exactly what Alexei and I expected.” Natalka started the water running and reached for a dishrag that was hung neatly on the side of the stove. “I suppose we thought if Ral ever did bring someone home, they would be—more like him.”

            “Ral and I actually have quite a bit in common,” Jace replied mildly. “I just—hide my eccentricities better.” Mentally, he apologized to Ral for that statement, certain that his lover’s response would be something disparaging about his cloak.

            “Don’t get me wrong, I’m just glad that he’s found someone.” Natalka dabbed at her eyes with her apron. “Actually, I’m glad he trusted us enough to bring you here to begin with—and on the Festival of Belonging! We’re so happy you were able to come. Ral’s father and I have loved Ral ever since he was a little boy, but I, well, I don’t think we knew how to make him understand it. We wanted the best for him, but we just didn’t know what that was. Not for Ral.” She smiled sadly. “He’s got too much of his grandmother in him.”

            Jace, who had been expecting a conversation more along the lines of “whatever you do, don’t hurt my baby,” was having trouble figuring out how to respond. Finally, he managed, “He means a lot to me.”

            “I can tell,” Natalka said warmly. “I could tell as soon as I saw the two of you standing at the door. I’ve never seen Ral touch someone the way he touches you—just casually, as if he’s not even thinking about it.”

            The brush of Ral’s hand on his shoulder, on his hand. The indescribably warm feeling of safety Jace got whenever the two of them linked hands. Yes, he’d been noticing the touches himself lately, over the past month or two, and he’d missed that feeling terribly while he was on Zendikar.

            “Anyway, Berrim, I asked you in here because I have a bit of a favor to ask of you.” She ran a hand through her hair. “I’m not going to tell you to take care of Ral, he’s—well, he’s not _good_ at it, but he’s managed not to kill himself yet. I’m just going to ask you to be there for him, and—let him be there for you. He can’t do that for many people. He should have a family he can be close to.”

            Shuffling his feet, Jace handed her the next plate. “I’ll try,” he said. “I mean—I’m not so great at asking for help myself. But I’ll do my best.”

            “Thank you,” smiled Natalka, and Jace couldn’t stop himself from leaning over awkwardly and patting her shoulder. She turned away from the sink with a laugh, and gave him a quick but thorough hug. For a long moment, Jace shut his eyes and leaned into the embrace, while something in the back of his mind tried to shunt forward a memory from long ago, but it faded before he could grasp it.

            “Thank you for having me, Natalka,” he replied, when he was sure his voice wouldn’t break. “I had a wonderful evening.”

~

            They left later than Jace thought Ral had expected to leave, only a few minutes before midnight. Most of that time they’d stayed because of Ral’s family urging them to; the last little bit had been Jace digging in his heels, partly because he’d really been enjoying himself, and partly because he wasn’t looking forward to the discussion he was about to have with Ral, and he’d spent nearly twenty minutes trying to find the best way tor broach the subject.

            “I have to leave again,” he blurted, not two minutes after they walked out of Ral’s parents’ house.

            Ral stopped, swung round to look at him, and scowled. “What do you mean you have to leave again?”

            Haltingly, Jace did his best to outline the events of Zendikar and his pressing reasons for needing to travel to Innistrad, though he couldn’t make himself say anything about Liliana. Ral was still on high alert from the last time she’d shown up, and he didn’t need his boyfriend to actually point black refuse to let him leave the plane.

            “The ‘Gatewatch’?” Ral asked, in a tone of voice that suggested that he wasn’t impressed. “Well, far be it from me to take away your hobbies, Jace, but you _are_ aware that, as the Living Guildpact you have more than a few responsibilities _to Ravnica_ , yes?”

            “I am excessively aware, thank you, which is why I was hoping you’d agree to come after me if I don’t come back within a fortnight.”

            “We really need to work out some kind of interplanar communication,” Ral grumbled. “Fine, if you really think it’s necessary, you can wander off to your little horror plane, but if you’re gone more than a minute longer than you promised and you’re _not_ in lethal danger, I’m going to haul your ass back here so fast you’ll leave marks in the Blind Eternities.”

            “Believe me,” Jace said with a grimace, “I’m not going to be gone one minute longer than I have to.”

~

            Grimly, Ral Zarek made a set of final adjustments to his gauntlet, mind already running over the paths in the Blind Eternities he’d need to take to get to Jace. The Guildpact had taken him briefly to Innistrad before he’d actually left, just to make sure Ral knew how to get there in an emergency, and, as it was now several minutes past midnight on the fifteenth day that Jace had been gone, it looked as if Ral was going to have to take a little trip.

            “Goddammit, Jace, what, did you get lost on the way home?” muttered Ral. “Accidentally excise from your brain the correct directions to make it back to Ravnica?” It was probably something stupid like that. Definitely nothing to be worried about, but sparks kept trickling down over his eyes and obscuring his vision, even with his gauntlet tuned to its maximum capacity.

            As he shut his eyes and started to breathe, preparing his mind for the jarring unreality of the Eternities, there was a sudden moment of silence, as if the sound waves of the world had just stopped propagating for an instant. Before he could reach for them, the Eternities opened, and a very bedraggled-looking mind mage materialized out of nowhere and fell several feet to the floor of the Ral’s lab.

            Ral let out a long breath. “You’re late,” he said irritably. “And what the fuck are you wearing?” Jace hadn’t exactly _removed_ his cloak—Ral would have been concerned about an impostor if he had—but he’d modified it to the point where he seemed to have sewed it into the interior of a long black duster. “That is literally the worst fashion choice I have ever seen,” Ral continued relentlessly. “I mean, I get that it’s a safety blanket, but couldn’t you just cover it up with an illusion if you wanted to conform to the local styles?”

            For a long minute, Jace just lay on the floor, breathing, his hands at his sides. Crap. “Uh, Jace, you’re not broken, are you? Because I’m not Simic and I don’t think I could—” Which was when Jace pulled himself upright, staggered over to Ral, and collapsed into his arms.

            “Ral,” he said hoarsely.

            “Yes, that’s me, glad to see you haven’t erased your boyfriend’s name.”

            “Well,” Jace said, with a shaky laugh. “I, uh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

            “Oh, for—what did you do _this_ time?”

            “It’s fine, I got it back, I just—” Jace took a deep breath. “There was more on Innistrad than I was expecting, and I—may have panicked.”

            Ral, who knew the kinds of things Jace was likely to do in a panic, groaned. “Tanit, I swear, if you start bleeding nightmares into my head again—”

            Wincing, Jace shook his head, putting a hand to his forehead. “I—I’ll try not to,” he gritted out, then paused, as if he were trying to figure out his next move.

            “Maybe you should sit down,” Ral said awkwardly. He still had no idea how to do this part. He was fine at the whole saving-Jace-from-assassins thing—though, to be fair, it had only happened three or four times—but he didn’t know how to handle the aftermath, didn’t know how to give Jace what he needed when he was trying to come down afterwards, or when he was having a panic attack in the middle of the night, or—Ral sighed. He didn’t know how to deal with it when _he_ had panic attacks in the middle of the night, either, and that had been known to happen as well. Most of the time, he just went to work on whatever he was tinkering with until his breathing slowed and the feeling of being trapped slowly went away.

            “I need your help,” Jace blurted finally. “I—I touched some things with my mind while I was on Innistrad, and it’s still hurting. Can I—” he gestured from his forehead to Ral’s. “Just to feel something familiar.”

            “Sure,” Ral replied, a little surprised at himself for not hesitating longer. “Just don’t touch my current project. The gyroscopic hovercraft can go, I’ve got it all written down, and if you feel like erasing a few of the times Niv yelled at me, that sounds like a great time.” He watched with interest as Jace’s mouth opened in confusion and then just remained open. “Well, go on then.”

            “Thanks,” Jace said, gratefully, clutching at Ral’s shirt front. He clutched at Ral’s mind at the same time, a sensation the Izzet mage was surprised he was capable of feeling. Jace _must_ be tired or hurt if he was being this clumsy. He felt— _cold, fear, alien_ —little shards of Jace’s thoughts getting mixed in with his own. A rapid succession of images—a chessboard, an angel with bleeding wings, Jace’s own face, covered in a mocking smile—and a deep-seated sense of wrongness beneath it all. The very space around the two of them seemed to waver slightly. Jace was shivering, and Ral instinctively pulled him close; Jace buried his face in Ral’s shirt, his breathing ragged but starting to even out.

            He didn’t get the full story of Jace’s past few weeks, but he got enough to piece together what was worrying his lover right now. “So you trapped this thing in the moon, asked your evil ex-girlfriend to help save the world, and nearly forgot your own name again? Did I miss anything?”

            Jace frowned at him. “Frankly, I just wanted her to have more people to bother,” he said. “I figure this way I can send her to Gideon instead of constantly having to ward her off myself.” He grimaced. “I’m kind of upset I forgot all of your family’s advice for dealing with her over most of that trip…”

            “Well, you seem to have done pretty well for yourself, why are you still worried?”           

            Because he was. Jace hadn’t dropped the connection yet, and Ral could feel his concern pulsing through it like a dull, throbbing ache.

            “Because what happens when she gets out?” Jace asked exhaustedly. “We didn’t really trap her in the moon, she—went in there of her own accord. I still don’t really know what she wanted, what her motivations are. I don’t really understand anything, and I’m not even sure if my being there helped at all.”

            Ral blinked at him. “You really need to learn when things aren’t your problem.”

            “What? I do not! This is important! Emrakul could—get free and come after Ravnica or eat half the Multiverse or—”

            “Yeah, and Niv Mizzet could go completely insane and destroy everything on Ravnica, or one of the innumerable plots to fucking _kill_ you could actually work for a change, or, hell, I don’t know, the Blind Eternities could just decide to swallow everything. This is _not your problem_ , Jace. And you have a lot of problems, so maybe you should try focusing on those for a change.”

            For a moment, Jace looked wounded, and then the sudden hurt changed to indignation. “I do _not_ have a lot of problems!”

            “You have an unbelievable number of problems, you have every single problem that any of the guilds has and a number of others,” Ral retorted smugly. “But if you’re quite done adding new problems to your collection, I can think of much better things for you to be doing than just standing there.”

            “It’s—past midnight, I just got back, I’m _exhausted_ —” Ral nibbled at Jace’s ear enquiringly, “—okay fine, I suppose I could use a distr—act—ion—” The last word dissolved into a breathy sigh.

            “Good,” Ral said with satisfaction. “Then let’s get you out of these truly horrific clothes, shall we?” Jace immediately reached for the top layer of his own clothing, then paused for a moment, giving Ral a wide smile. “What?” Ral asked suspiciously.

            “Just—thanks for being there for me.”

            “Krokt, don’t get sentimental on me, Jace.” Despite his protests, there was a suspiciously warm feeling welling up in Ral’s general chest and stomach area.

            “Sorry,” Jace said, and pulled him down for a kiss.

~

            Someone was knocking at the side door. Natalka, who had just returned from the Conclave and was standing almost dreamily at a side window, started up, wondering who would be visiting at such an hour. Frowning, she called to Alexei that she’d get it and hurried to the side door.

            Standing on the other side was a young woman in nondescript, guildless clothing, holding a large clay pot with a small but sturdy plant in it. “Natalka Zarek?” she asked as Natalka opened the door.

            “Yes,” Natalka responded with surprise.

            The young woman smiled. “This is for you,” she said, pressing the pot into Natalka’s hands. “A delivery from Doubravka’s.” The name of the famous flower shop had Natalka’s eyebrows disappearing into her hair.

            “Thank you,” she said automatically. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting a minute, I’ll get you something for your trouble.”

            The young woman nodded, and Natalka headed back into the house to search for her coin purse. Once she had found it and given the woman a few coins for the delivery, she took a moment to examine the plant. It was a young but sturdy sapling with shaggy, rough-textured bark and flat, round leaves. “Mother of rains,” Natalka said limply. “Alexei!”

            Her husband poked his head out of the living room, where he had been napping, still in his work clothes. Natalka had to admit it was nice being able to come home and find him home as well—their schedules used to barely align at all, but with some changes in the tunnel crews, they had synchronized fairly well for the past few years, and Alexei had been cutting down the hours he worked since Jaromir moved out, in any case. “What is it, Nat?”

            “Someone gave us a featherbark tree.” Featherbarks were rare these days; about ten years ago there had been a disease that had decimated their population. They were also expensive, both due to their rarity and to their healing properties. They weren’t a cure-all, but they had some very effective painkilling properties, which just happened to be the base of a number of medications Alexei preferred for mitigating the pain of his injured leg. He couldn’t always get them, but if they had a featherbark tree, Natalka could easily distill them for him.

            “Tanit,” Alexei said, his eyebrows going up a little. “That’s extraordinarily kind of them. Who was it?”

            A little calmer now, Natalka inspected the pot and found a slip of paper tied carefully to the base of the tree. All it said was, _Thank you for the advice_ , with a scrawled, messy, ‘B’ as the signature. Hand flying to her mouth, she found herself blinking back tears. “I think—I think Ral’s finally—” She pushed the card at Alexei, who smiled at her, and drew her close to kiss her forehead.

            “—found somewhere he belongs?”

            “Found someone he belongs with.”

 


End file.
